Bananas and Groundnuts - by Stargirl.

Last night, I found myself wandering through the familiar walls of my university with no real destination in mind. It was one of those walks where your feet seem to know where they're going even when your mind doesn't. The campus wears a completely different face at night; the noise softens, the crowds thin out, and somehow every corner begins to tell a story that daylight is always too busy to notice. Every few steps, another scene demanded my attention. Some people sat quietly by themselves, headphones on, eyes fixed on absolutely nothing, looking as though they were either reflecting on the meaning of life or simply trying to remember why they left their hostels in the first place. With students, it's usually fifty-fifty. Then there were those praying with such conviction and at the top of their voices. In tongues or in words. Sometimes, there are strange loud squeals and screams. I'm so used to it and ohh sometimes, I'm in those shoes myself, that I didn't even bother asking what the prayer points were. At that hour, it could have been exams, tuition, family, visa applications, scholarship opportunities, or simply a passionate request to have more taste of the divine or for life to stop testing them every other Tuesday. I walked past quietly and borrowed an "Amen" or two for myself. One can never have too many. Not too far away were groups of friends laughing over conversations that probably started with one serious topic before taking the usual university route into gossip, football, conspiracy theories, classmates gists and somebody's lecturer who "has a personal problem" with the entire class. And then... I saw couples. Now, I have nothing against love. In fact, I fully support it... from a safe distance.They walked hand in hand with the kind of peace that suggested inflation had somehow skipped their households. They laughed as though assignments didn't exist, deadlines had been abolished, and data subscriptions renewed themselves every month. Watching them was enough to gently remind me of my own relationship status : Botched.Like an assignment you spent three sleepless nights working on only to discover you uploaded the wrong file. We move. For about three seconds, I entertained the idea of becoming emotional. Then I remembered that heartbreak has never charged anybody's phone, paid anybody's rent, or added extra points to anybody's CGPA. Sentiment is expensive these days and I won't be wasting mine on the things that do not matter. What a friend we have in Jesus too. Truth be told, I wasn't even out there for philosophical reflection. My mission was far nobler. I had come to charge my phone. In this economy, a functioning charging point is no longer just a socket; it is a public utility, a pilgrimage site, a place where strangers become temporary family united by one common goal: surviving on 4% battery. I have not seen light in my hostel since I resumed and I've learnt to change my colour to fit in that which life offered me at this point: I'm blue. So there I was, seated beside the socket with my phone plugged in like a patient in intensive care, occasionally glancing at the battery percentage as it climbed with all the enthusiasm of government promises. To pass the time, I did what every ambitious but financially confused young adult eventually does. I opened my browser and typed: "How to really become wealthy." Notice the maturity. Not "how to get rich overnight." Not "how to make one million before breakfast." I've evolved. I now seek sustainable prosperity. Because somewhere in the world, someone must know the formula. Surely there exists a secret that isn't "wake up by 5 a.m." or "have a millionaire mindset." If positive thinking alone created wealth, students would be billionaires by second semester. As I continued my research into financial greatness, I happily munched on my trusted companions: banana and groundnuts or roasted corn but mostly bananas and groundnuts. Life is funny. There was a time when I considered banana and groundnuts emergency food. Today, I defend it with my whole chest. It's affordable, filling, nutritious enough to convince you you're making healthy decisions, and unlike some people, it has remained remarkably consistent. It has never promised forever and disappeared after two weeks. I looked around one more time. Students praying for breakthroughs they couldn't yet see. Students reading under dim lights, hoping tomorrow's questions would somehow resemble what they had revised. Students laughing so loudly you'd think adulthood wasn't patiently waiting outside the school gate with unpaid bills and responsibilities. And then there was me. One hand on my phone, the other buried in a bag of groundnuts, waiting for my battery to charge while searching the internet for wealth and quietly hoping that one day I'd laugh about nights like this from the comfort of a life I once prayed for. Maybe that's what university really is. Not just lectures, tests, and CGPAs, but thousands of ordinary nights that don't feel important until years later, when they become the stories you tell with the biggest smile. Until then, if you're ever looking for me after dark, there's a good chance I'll be somewhere beside the nearest charging socket, banana in one hand, groundnuts in the other, and another tab open asking the internet questions it's probably tired of answering.

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